


Falling Down

by HawkSong



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Hiking, Wolmeric Week (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29875176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkSong/pseuds/HawkSong
Summary: Wolmeric week; prompt was "Home"Because even in this AU, and even though she hasn't been there even a whole school year...Ishgard is home for Berylla, and Aymeric is part of that.
Relationships: Alphinaud Leveilleur & Warrior of Light, Aymeric de Borel & Warrior of Light
Kudos: 4





	Falling Down

Aymeric de Borel was on the edge of losing his temper.

“What do you mean she's just not with you??”

Paulecrain smirked. “She wandered off on her own, Borel. Not my fault if she broke the rules.”

Aymeric smelled a metaphorical rat. But he did not waste his breath in railing at the blond boy. Instead he shoved past the whole group, heading down the trail they had been taking. He wanted to spit in Paulecrain's face, wanted to curse and threaten the smug son of a bitch.

But Berylla was out there somewhere, and there was no time to waste. The pack on his back didn't weigh enough to cause him concern, and the moment he was out of sight of the others, he broke into a jog.

He hadn't gone twenty yards down the path when he heard light footsteps running to catch up to him.

“Go back, Leveilleur.”

“With all due respect, fuck yourself, Aymeric. She needs us both.”

“I shan't slow down for you.”

“Good.” Alphinaud's voice was a touch breathless already but it was still plain that he was very angry. “I have another rescue kit and I know CPR. Alisaie gave me all her spare supplies and she's organizing others to search.” He stopped speaking for a moment as the two of them leaped across a rough patch in the path. But the moment they were on a flat bit again, he added, “Besides which, you know better than to attempt any search and rescue without at least one partner, Class President.” The words were loaded with sarcasm every bit as thick as his sister's best efforts.

Aymeric couldn't help but smile. “You are correct in that much. Fine. Save your breath.”

They ran on, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of Berylla's passing or presence. Paulecrain's snarky report had mentioned a particular section of the cliffs, and Aymeric thought – he hoped – that he recalled the spot correctly.

He had to admit, though it was clearly not easy for the younger boy to keep up, Alphinaud did not complain or falter even once. For all his bookish ways, obviously the scholar wasn't as out of shape as Aymeric had always assumed.

When Aymeric slowed to a walk, Alphinaud was panting heavily, but he still did not beg to stop or murmur a word. They walked along the fence that marked the cliff edge – meant more as a reminder to hikers to stay back a few feet than as anything to actually stop a fall.

Alphinaud cursed, and Aymeric turned to see the younger boy pointing. “Her scarf!”

He was right – the school scarf fluttered in a bush, tangled up in the branches. The scholar whipped out his phone and hit a couple of buttons, while Aymeric went forward, cautiously, inspecting the area.

A rocky ledge had angled outward here, and Aymeric bit his lip. “Fury protect her,” he muttered under his breath, seeing how the ledge had crumbled. He forced down a blip of panic when he saw the unmistakable rusty color of blood on the thorny bush that had captured Berylla's scarf.

“She's definitely down there. Has to be,” he said to Alphinaud as the other boy approached.

“I've alerted Alisaie. She'll make sure help comes our way.” Alphinaud peered gingerly over the edge and swallowed hard. “Thaliak's blessed balls, that is a terrifying slope.”

“This whole cliff is riddled with caves and ledges,” Aymeric told him, trying to reassure the younger boy. “She could be right under our feet, tucked safe into one of those caves.” He glanced around. “I don't think we should try calling out, though.”

Alphinaud followed the older boy's gaze and nodded. “Shale cliff...gods. Avalanches?”

“Maybe.” Aymeric shed his pack. “I'm going to see if I can climb down for a way. I might be able to see her.”

He removed coils of rope and tied one of them to the fence posts; looped some rope around himself, threw the second coil over his shoulder, and without hesitation went over the side.

Alphinaud knelt down to try to watch, but soon had to back away – the aspect of the cliff side from the fence was dizzying in the extreme.

But barely a minute later, Aymeric called up to him. “I see her! Lower my pack down here!”

Moving quickly though his hands shook, the scholar obeyed. The pack went down without any trouble, but Alphinaud couldn't leave it at that. He checked the straps on his own pack and shouted down. “I'm coming down too!”

And then he was over the side, not letting himself think about what he was doing, just scrambling down the rope in a mad rush.

It was not the best idea he had ever had.

Aymeric cursed even as Alphinaud felt his hands lose grip on the rope. By some pure miracle of Thaliak's grace, the older boy managed to reach out and grab the scholar – yanking him hard to the side – and by a further miracle, Alphinaud's boots hit the ledge beside his friend instead of skittering off. His momentum slammed him into the cliff face, but he clung with his fingers to the dirt and blessed the pain of sharp rock stabbing into his cheek.

“Idiot,” Aymeric snarled, but his hand stayed firm on Alphinaud's arm until the smaller boy stopped shaking quite so badly.

Fortunately for them both, Berylla was indeed inside of a cave. It seemed she had crawled there – her feet were yet sticking out onto the ledge a little way. Her pack was on her back, but was torn in places and smeared with dirt and rock fragments. She was still.

Too still.

“Don't do anything yet,” Aymeric warned, “just get yourself into the damned cave. We have to get off this fucking ledge first.”

“Yes.” Alphinaud's heart was hammering fit to leave his chest but he obeyed the harsh instructions without a quibble. Fine lot of good he would do Berylla if he managed to fall off this ledge, after all!

It was not a large cave – in fact, Aymeric had to bend at a most uncomfortable angle, finally giving up and going to his hands and knees. But it was wide enough and just deep enough that they could get in and turn themselves around.

Alphinaud's fingers were on Berylla's neck the minute he got into a position to allow it.

“She has a good pulse,” he reported, then began to gingerly check her skull. After a minute, he grimaced and looked over at Aymeric. “I can't be sure, but I think she might have hit her head.”

“What next, then?”

Alphinaud bit his lip. “We dare not move her if we don't know her injuries. If her neck or spine is already hurt...” He dug for his phone. “I'm going to call Alisaie.”

Aymeric knelt and set his hand over one of Berylla's. She was pale, and her hand was cold, but the stone was sucking heat out of him at a rapid rate – he made himself believe she was just cold from that and not from something more serious. He tried not to dwell on the difficult cliff all around them. There was no way in the seven hells he was going to be able to climb back up from here, even without his pack. Taking Berylla out that way was absolutely out of the question. What were they to do?

Outside the cave, the wind picked up. Aymeric frowned, not liking the way the sky was darkening.

“We found her, yes. We are beside her. She's unconscious...we are in a cave in the cliff ledge.” He took the phone away from his face for an instant and poked a couple of things, then spoke once more, rattling off a string of numbers. “Those are our coordinates. It's going to take some kind of airborne rescue to get her to safety, Alisaie....I...what?”

Aymeric looked over at the scholar. Alphinaud had gone pale and he was biting his lip. “Thaliak preserve,” the younger boy whispered.

Then he tapped his phone. “Alisaie, repeat that please, Aymeric is right next to me.”

“There's a bad storm coming!” The girl's voice was tight, upset, but not shrill. “There's no way we can reach you until it's over.”

“So what are we to do?” demanded Aymeric. “Simply sit here and wait?”

“Yes.” The answer was flat, cold, harsh. “There's nothing else to be done. The sun will be down in forty minutes and – ”

Outside the cave, the wind abruptly howled like a demented thing, and thunder crashed all around them even as lightning flashed – seeming to hang mere feet in front of the cave mouth.

“And the storm is here,” Alphinaud finished. “Alisaie, pray for us.”

But there was no answer.

The scholar looked at his phone and let out a string of curses in old Sharlayan. “Connection lost,” he spat, and shoved the now-useless phone into his pocket. “I will just have to hope that between what she gave me and what I already had, we will have enough supplies.” He surveyed the cave. “There is one blessing – this cave angles slightly. We shan't drown even if the rain comes directly in.”

Aymeric nodded. “No way to make a fire either. Can you do anything for Berylla? I would prefer not to leave her feet hanging out over the abyss...”

“I...there is something I can try.”

Then he took a long breath, and looked directly into Aymeric's face.

“This magic that we seem to have uncovered...I have been practicing with it, as much as I can stand. It is not unlike exercising a muscle in the way that strength is gained...but thus far all I know for certain is that I can heal.”

“There is a complication?”

“I do not rightly know what will happen, trying to heal her. But I am _going_ to try. Just – I suppose,” the scholar sighed, “if I start to look too pale, or if anything seems awry, knock me over.”

“Easily done.” Aymeric couldn't help but tease.

“Pah, fuck you.” But the scholar smiled, and some of the tension left his slim shoulders.

Then he laid his hands on Berylla's shoulders, and closed his eyes.

Aymeric expected nothing at all to happen – or at least nothing that his own eyes would detect. So when white light began to gather around the scholar's hands, the older boy startled slightly, mouth opening in shock. But he did not interfere, did not speak.

The light seemed to flow into Berylla, and he could feel how her hand in his warmed, very slowly. It seemed like an hour passed before she moved – with the storm and the falling dusk it was impossible to really tell the passage of time. He found himself reciting all the prayers to Halone that he knew.

When she shifted and moaned, he breathed one last prayer of thanks and then squeezed her hand.

“Aymeric? Alphinaud?” Berylla mumbled, her cheek still pressed into the stone. “Oh gods, I hurt...what happened?”

Alphinaud's voice was breathless, as if he had been running up the trail all over again. “Not the time to explain,” he panted. “Can you move your legs? We need to get you further inside.”

The red-head grunted. “Yeah. Maybe. Ugh.”

Then her legs moved, her feet scrabbling on the shale. No sooner had she shoved herself further into the cave – putting her head in Alphinaud's lap in the doing – than the ledge outside the cave crumbled with a hissing sound barely audible over the storm's howls.

“Oh for the love of the Fury,” Aymeric groaned. “This just keeps getting better.”

“Doesn't matter,” Alphinaud stated. He wriggled around, easing himself to one side. He tugged at Berylla's pack, and the already torn material of the straps shredded at his touch. He took the pack away.

“Turn over on your back if you can, Berylla.”

The tall girl grunted again, grumbling under her breath and cursing. But eventually she managed to turn onto her back, and with some more awkward wriggling on everyone's part, the three of them were wedged together, slightly sitting up against the back of the cave. Further efforts dragged out blankets from Alphinaud's pack, and Aymeric produced packets of food – candy bars and some beef jerky. Berylla's pack, damaged as it was, held only an emergency blanket and two bottles of water.

Meanwhile, Berylla sat and rubbed at her face and her arms, slowly. “I feel weird.”

“Do you still hurt?”

“No. Mostly itchy. But I _should_ be hurting. I can feel where I have cuts and stuff.”

Alphinaud's hands touched her arm and her shoulder. “Do you want me to try to do more healing?”

“Healing? What, like magic?” Berylla's voice held surprise, then she coughed. “Oh. Yeah. Right. Um. No. Don't try to do any more...I'm okay for now.”

Lightning flashed again outside, seven bolts coming down somewhere near enough that the thunder had no delay. It lit up the inside of the cave, and both boys could see Berylla peering out into the darkness. “Oh, whale tits,” she muttered. “No one's comin' for us, are they?”

Aymeric choked slightly, and put his hand in front of his mouth hastily to keep from spitting out the piece of food in his mouth. After a moment of hurried chewing, he managed to clear his mouth and throat, and looked at Berylla, his mouth twitching. “Whale tits? Really?”

She canted her head to the side. “What? They have 'em.”

Aymeric covered his mouth again, but it did nothing to cover the chuckle, that became a chortle, and then was a full on guffaw. Even as Alphinaud and Berylla watched him, the tall Elezen held his sides, laugh-tears streaming down his cheeks.

“It's not that funny,” Berylla smiled, but even as she said it, she began to giggle. Her laughter set off Alphinaud, and in only a moment more, all three of the teenagers were crowing with merriment.

The giggling subsided slowly, punctuated now and again by rumbles of thunder. But the blankets were tucked around them, their laughter served to warm up their bodies and the air around them, and the wind wasn't gusting in a way that threw rain into their faces.

“Oh,” Alphinaud rubbed at his side slightly, “Oh, it hurts to laugh that hard. Whew.” He wiped his eyes, and cleared his throat a little. “Alisaie knows where we are. She was saying that rescue should come as soon as the storm clears – well, more or less.”

“Really? Well...” Berylla looked thoughtful as she chewed the last of her own candy bar. “Well, if it's Alisaie, she'll nag them until they do what she wants.”

“True. She is nothing if not persistent.”

“And she cares about you too much to let you die here.”

Alphinaud's face warmed, and he was glad the lightning had slowed. The other two surely could not see the way he was blushing. “...She is a good sister.” He floundered for something else to say, and finally managed, “Besides, she is surely just as concerned for you, Berylla.”

“Ah, so I am the one left out and forgotten,” Aymeric drawled, but he was still laughing a bit beneath those words.

“You're the most important one here,” Berylla snorted. “Pretty sure they'd send out the _military_ to come get you.”

“Not at all; I would be expected to extricate myself.” Aymeric's tone was matter of fact. “After all, if I cannot, then I do not deserve further opportunities.”

Berylla shifted, and leaned into him. “That's harsh as fuck.”

“Well, it is also neither here nor there. For the time being, making it through this night is the task before us. And the first thing to do is make certain we are warm enough.”

Alphinaud said, “We have four blankets, and body heat. That ought to suffice, I think.”

“So we just snuggle up and wait, huh?”

The words hung in the darkness, and Berylla felt both the boys go very still. She sighed a little. “Lemme guess, now you're both worried about behaving or something.”

“I have no doubt that I can control myself,” Aymeric muttered.

“As can I,” Alphinaud's voice was tart. “But Berylla, if you are not comfortable – ”

“For fuck's sake, you're both idiots. Hug me already.”

There was one more moment of awkward silence and stillness. Then, Aymeric shifted his hips closer, so that his leg pressed against Berylla's leg, and he slid his right arm behind her – and behind Alphinaud's shoulders. His left hand rested on her thigh, and Berylla put her left hand in his, tangling their fingers together lightly.

On the other side of her, Alphinaud was already pressed tight against her side – there just wasn't more room in the cave on this side. But now he threaded his arm with hers and held her hand between both of his. Feeling as if he were being very daring, he snuggled into her, resting his head against her shoulder. He was keenly aware for a moment that if he turned his head just so, he would press his face against the upper curve of her breast. But he forced himself to be still, sternly telling his base instincts to take a metaphorical hike.

Berylla pressed her cheek against the top of Alphinaud's head, and sighed quietly. Even with the cold stone at her back, even with the aches she could still feel (that she wasn't about to mention to Alphinaud), there was something so peaceful about being held in this way...

Then everything that had happened hit her, and she shivered once, a tremor that had nothing to do with cold.

“Berylla?” Aymeric murmured.

“I just.” Her mouth was dry and she tightened her grip on their hands. “I'll be glad when this storm is done.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “I want to go home.”

“And we will go home,” Alphinaud answered, soothing. “All of us.”


End file.
